The Land of Milk & Semen (POV:She)

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Two people learn to survive by "giving"
5.2k words
4.25
29.6k
14

Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 10/19/2022
Created 11/25/2009
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(Author's Note: The names and places are completely fictitious. This story is told from the female character POV. Paired with this same story is the same story but from the male POV).


Steve and I are aggressive, somewhat ambitious, very resourceful people at a small semiconductor company in Southern California. My name is Lauri. He was maybe 5 years younger than me (I’m almost 40 now).

I’ve always had a reputation as a “no bullshit” kind of woman but also someone who knows how to have fun (and I do!) so I guess both of these things are true.

Steve came to the company a few years ago and he and I clicked right off even though we were both very competitive. His friends would come by the office for lunch and they called him “Mr. Lucky”, which I assumed had to do with his smarts and ambition.

He was cute but also had a “magnetism” and carried himself in a way that made him seem more mature than his age. He was always cheerful and goodhearted but when it came to business or anything he regarded seriously, he was no nonsense. He had already done well in his young life so far.

Steve had golden brown eyes, and brown hair. He was very sharp and had a very commanding voice even though he was just an average sized man. When he was angry or excited his voice would resonate with such tone that I found it hard to reconcile this huge voice coming out of this normal-sized body.

He was very fit. He was very athletic but hated watching sports on TV. Go figure. He was lean and muscular. His body was very taut. He was basically hyper by nature so he always seemed a little “on edge” and his muscles seemed to reflect that constant tension.

He always dressed professionally but we would both commonly work weekends and once, he came to work on a Saturday in his sweats. I was sitting at my computer and I clearly saw, since it was at eye-level as he walked by, a pretty hefty penis swinging inside those sweat pants. Maybe this is where the “Mr. Lucky” comes from, I thought to myself. That’s probably as close to a big dick as I’m ever going to get, I thought to myself.

My asshole husband dumped me about a year ago when I told him I was pregnant. He had a little dick anyway. Screw the asshole twerp.... My mind immediately wandered off, thinking about Steve’s lean muscular body and having that fat penis against my lips and fantasizing about sucking it and pleasuring him.

Nah. I’m too old. Get over it. I reprimanded myself. I snapped back to reality.

Even though I was almost 40, I was in good shape, I had a pretty face, and big boobs that seemed to drive most men (especially after having my daughter) to complete distraction.

My lovely daughter was born a couple of months ago and she was staying with Grandma for a few days so I could have a little taste of freedom and some time to think.

So now, as I am officially divorced , and I had plenty of pent up anger at my asshole ex, I seemed to use that as fuel; I threw myself into work. I wanted to get ahead and move up in this company.

Steve was just generally driven with his “career goals” as he put it. I wasn’t surprised that he was single, being so pre-occupied. Sometimes his “career-goals” were a pain in the ass as he would let that pre-occupation take priority over other things that he should be more attentive to in his personal life (in my humble opinion). He makes lunch dates and then cancels them, he forgot my birthday. Those “career-goals” will certainly get him moving onward and upward in a company, but they’re not going to help him get laid!

As I said, we were both moving up in this small company which was why we were both working late on a Friday night. Our company was on the fifth floor of a typical high-rise.

It was the middle of summer, and hot as Hell outside, even though it was just starting to get dark. I was at my computer and Steve was at his computer on the opposite side of the cubicle wall.

We both felt it. I immediately saw Steve’s head pop up. He called it “prairie-dogging” over the cubicle wall and looked down at me and before he could say anything I said:
“Steve, did you feel that?”

“Hell yeah, I felt that (in that BIG voice of his). I was peeking over the wall to see if you felt it”. he said.

“Oh, I felt it all right.” I said. “That’s life in Southern California. You know, it’s a little strange now that I think about it...” I said, suddenly becoming lost in thought.

“What’s strange?” Steve asked.

“It’s strange that we haven’t had an earthquake in a long time.” I said. “It seems like we’d have a quake here and there every other week or so. I can’t even remember the last time we had a quake.”

“You know, you’re right.” Steve agreed. He walked around the cubicles and into my office as I sat at my computer, pondering. It had been months and months. I really couldn’t remember how long.

Then it hit again. People in California have been talking about “The Big One” for so long that I think everyone wondered if it would ever really happen.

Well, this was apparently “The Big One”. It was BIG. Really Big. Everything in the office appeared to be now made of liquid. Steve and I looked at each other in stark panic. He dove toward me and pulled me under the desk.

We tried to protect ourselves as we watched destruction that just did not compute. My computer screen fell off the desk onto the floor right in front of us. Cabinets and tables were rocking and falling over.

Then the most terrifyingly surreal sight happened right in front of us. The building was buckling and swaying so severely that the windows along the walkway, right across from my office were twisting and bending so much that they looked like liquid. I held my breath just waiting for the windows to explode from the stress, which they did. We both screamed. The building movement was unbelievable. I could see the solid concrete floor I was sitting on rippling like waves of water!

The desk was sliding around, even on the carpeted floor. Steve grabbed me and held onto the desk.

It seemed like everything suddenly came crashing down, and the noise was deafening; it was the sound of everything on our floor falling over, being smashed, crashing into the walls and windows.... Then came the worst. We felt the floor start to tilt. We were no longer on the level floor. We were being pulled by gravity out from under my desk. Steve wrapped his arm around me and slipped his other hand under the cubicle wall, but the cubicle walls were sliding along with us. I was scared shitless. I looked at Steve and he appeared to be on the border of panic.

Then it stopped. It just stopped. The floor was sloping down, all the windows were now bent so that they looked diamond-shaped. Tons of the upper floors had come crashing down and we were surrounded by pipes, ducts, wires. There was a hissing noise and a really creepy creaking sound, like something straining; about to snap. I was terrified that “that something” was going to snap and then we’d be finished. But it all seemed to grind to a halt.

Steve and I were in complete shock. He literally could not speak. I seemed to get my bearings and gather my wits pretty quickly. I was talking to Steve, trying to get some reaction but he was a million miles away mentally.

I realized pretty quickly that were incredibly lucky to be alive and apparently unhurt. It took Steve a good five minutes to come back to reality

“Steve. Steve!” I yelled. “You’ve got to snap out of it!”

He looked at me and said “Right! Right! Sorry.... I’m trying to take all this in. My brain’s on overload.”

“So is mine” I said. “But we’ve got to see what’s going on here.”

We crawled and crept over all the debris to one window opening and looked out. I was just getting dark. The hot air blowing in (the hot summer Santa Ana winds) felt like were sticking our faces in a furnace vent.

“My God!” Steve said. The destruction was endless. No lights anywhere as far as you could see, smoke from fires all over, and every building in sight was either a pile of rubble or just a shell of concrete and steel of what used to be an office building. The only lights were some deserted cars and flashing lights from ambulances and fire trucks. Sirens were the only sound you could hear.

We both collapsed down onto the floor and looked at each other. Now I was starting to go into shock. I began to cry and my mind was filling with horrible thoughts and I began to think the worst.

Steve stood, apparently just looking out the window, just staring, trying to take in the enormity of this disaster. My mind was racing, fighting the urge to panic. What was Steve thinking? I could tell he was using his “career-goals” hyper-analytical thinking to help figure a way out of this fucking mess. I was basically doing the same. My mind was checking off one item after another to see what options we had.

“We need to find an exit door. If we can’t then we need to find food or water soon.” Steve stated.

We both began to look around inside but it was dark now. The battery-powered emergency lights had come on but they were dim and getting dimmer. There was so much debris and shit everywhere that the chaos became almost more than I could take.

Steve found a flashlight and he started looking around. We both carefully crept around to find our boundaries and see if there was an exit door. The only exit door was barricaded with a huge concrete beam and we couldn’t reach the elevator door either.

“I heard water running earlier. Do you see any water?” Steve asked me.

I started looking around. There were wet spots where the pipes had broken but there was no longer any water running out.

“I can only find damp spots on the carpet. Nothing else. Shit.”

We looked through all the desks and everywhere we could think of for anything edible or drinkable. Nothing. This was really getting scary. Steve climbed over to the window opening. He shook his head as he looked down at the debris, he said it looked like it would take weeks just to get through all the shit in the way. There was still smoke and sirens. We are trapped.

“OK. We need to gather up what we can to have a central spot. We need to make something we can sleep on.” Steve declared.

“OK. We may as well use my.... well, what used to be my office, right here.” I said.

Steve agreed. It seemed the most obvious location. We started gathering what we could and brought it into my “office”.

“Lauri, we need to try to get some sleep.” Steve said. “I’m not sure how long we’re going to be here but we need to conserve our energy.”

It was also very hot. We were both sweating, just standing still. It was dark. Steve didn’t want to waste the flashlight so he turned it off. He checked his cell phone and there was no service (big surprise!). He shut it off.

Out of habit, I also checked my cell phone. Dead; no surprise.

Steve started putting together a “bed” of sorts. He built a frame using the cubicle frames, padded it with building insulation and covered it with the fabric from the cubicle walls. It was crude but it was flat level mostly. I could tell that we would be “cozy”.

Steve briefly turned the flashlight back on and said, “This is the best I could do for something to sleep on so we’ll have to make the best of it.”

I said, “It looks great. Thank you for all that work. I am very scared but I’m also really tired. I can’t wait to lay down.”

“I know. I’m scared but also really tired.” Steve said.

I spoke up in my usual no nonsense way: “You know, it’s really hot in here, it’s dark, and I’m not much in the mood for modesty. I am hot and sweaty. I need to get these clothes off.”

Steve agreed completely and said, “Thank you for breaking the ice. I’m smothering in these clothes too.”

We both stripped down and laid down on the “bed” Steve made. We were catching a small breeze from the Santa Ana winds. Even if it was a warm breeze, it beat no breeze.

Out of the blue Steve confessed: “Lauri, I apologize but I usually dress “Commando”. I don’t have any underwear on but I can’t stand wearing these pants for another second.”

I simply told him, “It’s OK. It’s totally dark. I can’t see anything and I don’t care right now. This is a survival situation. Other than my panties, I’m as naked as you are.”

We laid down on the “bed” on our backs. We just laid there for awhile. Suddenly I became overwhelmed with fear and I just turned onto my side away from Steve and I started crying.

I laid there, crying, trying to not panic, trying to be brave. Steve turned toward me and began to rub my shoulder to offer some comfort. He tried to be reassuring; that we were going to be all right. He nudged closer to me and he kept rubbing my shoulder. I was starting to relax a little. I was sure his arm was tired so I grabbed his hand and swung it around and planted it firmly on my breast. He immediately cupped my breast, following my lead. I immediately cupped my hand around his and pushed them both firmly into my breast.

“This is not sexual.” I immediately stated. “This is about closeness. I need to be close to you. This is about comfort.”

It was somehow comforting. It was an odd sensation of sexiness but it was SO comforting.

“I know.” Steve said. “I need to feel close to you too.”

Steve was also feeling a little more relaxed. Maybe a little too relaxed. I know it was pure reflex but his dick started swelling up, no doubt because he’s lying naked next to a naked woman with her boob in his hand. I knew he couldn’t help it. His semi-hard and very fat penis came up right under my ass, up against my panties and in between my thighs.

“I’m sorry.” Steve said immediately. “It’s just a reflex. I’m not horny or anything.”

I opened my legs just enough to let his penis come between my legs and I wrapped my hand around his thick, warm, comforting penis.

“I know. It’s OK. Like I said, this about closeness and comfort.” I said.

We somehow fell asleep with me holding his mammoth penis and he holding onto my breast, seemingly for dear life, literally, as it turned out.

For the next 48 hours we went through what I’ve heard as the seven classic stages of dealing with our possible impending doom: Shock, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Testing and finally Acceptance.

This became a “crash course” in facing one’s own mortality. After 60+ hours, we were both literally ready to hang it up. We were weak but seemingly resigned to our fate. It just didn’t seem like there was much we could but wait and hope and hope was running very, very thin.

I sat across from Steve in my old office chair. He sat on the end of the bed he made. It was almost dark again for the third night.

I got up and pulled out some cigarettes I found in the next office and came back, sat down and lit one.

“I found these in someone’s desk yesterday. I quit a few years ago but now, fuck it. I need a smoke.” I took a drag on the cigarette, and I started removing my clothes, which became our early evening routine. Steve also started stripping down.

It was pretty dark in the area. He turned on his iPhone out of habit. His iPhone was very bright. It lit up his face as he looked at nothing in particular.

With the little light left and glow from the phone, I stretched back and sitting in my chair, with my legs crossed, my breasts, even with tight cleavage, they spread wide enough to be touching the inside of my arms. My pussy was shaved absolutely clean.

“My God, you are a beautiful woman.” Steve said, matter-of-factly. I felt warmth in my pussy and I opened my legs slightly.

“I love the look of your shaved pussy. he said. “The folds of your pussy are very petite, perfect skin...” He looked hypnotized and I was very flattered.

“Well, now I know where “Mr. Lucky” comes from.” I said, transfixed on his beautiful penis. “You’re pretty pretty sexy yourself.”

“Do me a favor, would you?” I asked. “Shine your phone on your dick.”

He didn’t ask what I was up to, he just did it.

“I see you like to shave also.” I purred as I stared at his thickening penis “I like that. I love to lick and kiss and suck skin, and sometimes hair gets in the way.”

“My my, that is a magnificent penis you have. Honestly, I’ve been with a number of men, but I seem to have always had bad luck with barely average dicks. My ex, especially." I wiggled my little finger at him.

"Your dick is three times longer soft than when he had a hard-on.”

“All this talk seems to be getting you excited.” I said.

I was looking down at his dick and it looked delicious. He was still holding the phone shining toward his body and his dick was getting longer and thicker.

I could tell all this sexy talk was really getting him turned on.

I sat forward in my chair and spread my legs spread apart.

“I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to have a huge penis like yours in my mouth. Between my tits. In my pussy.” I was almost drooling. His penis looked irresistible.

“Wow. I’d be lucky to get 4 or 5 inches of that in my mouth. Even in my pussy, if you put that in all the way, I’ll feel it hitting the back of my tonsils.” I joked.

“One thing for sure. These tits can handle that dick. I would love to feel that big dick sliding in between my boobs.”

I could tell he was lost in imagining that very thing and as he turned the iPhone to shine it on my breasts....

Then the most amazing thing happened! Steve’s cell phone rang! It had been so quiet where we were, the phone sounded incredibly loud. It scared him so much he dropped the phone and he whelped like a puppy. I screamed.

He looked at the iPhone and looked back up at me to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. I was also looking back at him to make sure this was real.

He quickly picked up the phone and answered: “Hello! Hello?”

(author’s note: To learn the details of this conversation, as the female character could not hear the conversation, please read the twin to this story with the male POV).

I could faintly hear a scratchy voice asking Steve questions.

“Yes! Yes, this is Mr. Michaels!” Steve yelled. standing there naked.

(faint scratchy talking)

”I’m OK.” Steve said.

“It’s a rescue team.” Steve said to me.

(more faint scratchy talking)

“Yes. Mrs. Lauri LeBlanc!. She’s here too!. She’s also OK.” Steve said.

I clarified “It’s ‘MISS LeBlanc”.

Steve nodded.

(faint scratchy talking)

“Nothing.” Steve replied.

(serious sounding scratchy talking)

“I do.” Steve said to the voice on the other end of the phone.

(faint scratchy talking of rescuer)

“Why?” Steve asked.

“Yes sir, I do.” Steve replied.

Hearing half of this conversation was driving me nuts....

I was gesturing to Steve to see what was going on. I couldn’t stand the wait.

Steve held his hand up flat; to just wait.

Again, I was pleading to know what was going on. Steve held out his index finger as in “Just one more minute.”

Steve let the phone drop from his ear and he all of a sudden looked exhausted.

I demanded: “Who was that? What did they say?”

Steve said, “I’m sure it was the fire department or some other rescue force.”

“Well....?” I pleaded.

“They said they can’t get to us for another 12-18 hours and if we don’t get something to drink, we’re not going to make it. He said that if have to urinate, we absolutely have to catch in something and drink it. He said that’s our only chance to survive.” He said it all super-fast to get it all out.

I just sat down. Steve also sat down, both of us looking at the floor, both naked.

“Do you need to pee?” Steve asked. I shook my head “no”. He didn’t have to pee either.

A flash of brilliance came to me; an epiphany. What a great idea! I got up and walked over to my pile of clothes, reached into my bra and threw a pad at him while wearing an evil grin.

Steve was puzzled. “Why would you need to pad your bra when your boobs are practically spilling out?” he asked innocently.

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